


Spin the Wheel

by katiebakes641



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Illness, Multi, Recovery, Slice of Life, eventual action, eventual angst, my fic is kind of backwards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 20:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2442140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebakes641/pseuds/katiebakes641
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's mind is a spinning roulette wheel come off the table.</p><p>or what happens between getting free and finding Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I hate summaries and I hope that one was short and sweet enough to grab your attention. This is my first fic, so please be kind. I hope the metaphor isn't too tiresome.
> 
> Sort of inspired by [this](http://meta-buck.tumblr.com/post/99787367819/im-done-running-okay-i-didnt-know-where-else) photoset.

His mind was like a roulette wheel that bounced off the table and reeled around the room. He thought of one thing, then the wheel bounced against a chair leg and went leaping to the other side. It was lost. He thought he was settled until the wheel tipped back to one side. He shut his eyes tightly. One thing he did know – he was not having trouble remembering that casino assassination.

He ate when he remembered. He had no idea if that was often or not. He dumpster-dived twice until that resulted in camping out in a rest stop bathroom. Then he started swiping food in grocery stores and off plates left behind before bus boys came to clean them up. It wasn’t a bad deal. There was so much food waste going on that it managed to bother him.

Things were a serious of disjointed vignettes. He never knew what day it was. He didn’t recognize anyone and they didn’t recognize him. And he got by.

Sometime later, he noticed the smell. Later than that, he realized it was him. And he found himself in a motel bathroom showering.

He had a pair of hair shears in his hand and dark locks were drifting down to the vanity counter. His face started to emerge, one he hardly remembered. The last mirror he’d saw it out of had been pocked and stained. With blood?

He managed it pretty well, actually. It might even come across as styled. He looked at the clothes laid on the bed. Black suited him. It was the closest his civilian get-up could be to his uniform. He had a job to do.

~*~  
He was at a café when he remembered the date.

March 3rd, 2015.

He looked at his watch. A Tag Heuer. 12:45.

His mind was sharp. The roulette wheel tilted to the side before righting itself again.

~*~

He found him in a library, hunched over a large book with a bunch of other books stacked to the side. High set windows burnished his golden hair.

He slammed back into the shelf, out of sight, and braced his metal arm. It had produced a sharp slap against the industrial shelving of the university library.  
The wheel careened off the table legs of the casino, reeling like mad. The white ball was nowhere to be seen.

Bucky breathed in and out.

Bucky.

~*~

He had money now. A job waiting tables in a downtown bistro. Easy work, and he was good at it. He hadn’t lost that cocky smile and was good enough at putting on the swagger. His male coworkers grumbled that all the girls couldn’t stop staring.

Night was different. At night, he could think and dream. He remembered everything better than ever at night.

Beyond all belief, he started to make friends. Lisa, the manager. Jojo, the sax player on the corner. He had a couple dollars every day for the guy, a twenty on Sundays. Jojo played Moonlight Serenade whenever he walked by, and that seemed right.

The blonde walked by once. The name was on the tip of his tongue. A guy was with him, and this made Bucky bristle. He had a feeling of wings in his hand. Who made metal wings?

~*~

A memory surfaced. One from after. Bucky chased it by going back to the Smithsonian.

Steve Rogers.

There went the roulette wheel again.

~*~

A blonde. A girl.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

She was probably attractive. Shoulder-length hair, curling away from her face. She was all business-like, however, and Bucky didn’t doubt that she had a gun somewhere on her person.

“I…uh…”

An eyebrow arched.

“Sorry, I’m not buying,” she said, and started to shut the door. She stopped. “Hey, aren’t you…”

He was away and out of the building before she could finish the sentence.

~*~

He had a cellphone now, he could afford it with his job at the restaurant. It wasn’t hard to find the number. He was better with computers than he had any right to be. A voice in his head said that they should still be the size of extinct mammoths.

“Hello?”

He couldn’t say anything.

“Anyone there?”

He breathed in. A hoarse noise came out that sounded something like “hi.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

~*~

His thumb flicked to the number frequently. He did it without thinking. He dialed, hung up, turned off his phone, all by rote. It made him feel better.

It was probably past midnight, rain-slicked and cold. He was in the black outfit again because he forgot to do laundry. 

He had an apartment now. It was easier.

One day, his thumb hovered over the red icon. The phone started to ring. He couldn’t move his hand at all.

“Hello?”

“I…”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

A shuddering breath came down the line. “Please – “

“I’m at fifth and Wiltshire.”

“Buck!”

“Don’t you have a fancy motorcycle now?”


	2. Cleaning House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's back and there's some friction. All over the place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In parts, this has a Bucky/Sharon feel but don't worry, it's not going in that direction. Steve is dudebros with Nat, I figured Bucky deserved something similar.

She was living downstairs still. They were talking about moving back to Brooklyn and she was talking about living downstairs there as well. Steve would smile that half smile and say nothing. Natasha liked the idea, he could tell.

Her name was Sharon and she protected Steve. He could like her for that reason alone. But she was Peggy’s great-niece too. He’d disliked Peggy at first, since Steve had a crush on her, but she was all right. He’d stood in the doorway when Steve had gone to visit once. It wasn’t his place to visit with her.

Steve thought he was playing it cool by having movie nights. Some would come over. The worst was when Tony came. Bucky had a splitting headache after about five minutes with the man. He didn’t remember Howard very well, but his son was obnoxious.

Clint was cool.

“Wait ‘til you meet Thor, you won’t believe it,” Steve said.

Bucky grunted.

“He’s real, I swear. Tony called him ‘Shakespeare in the Park’ once.”

“What’s that?”

“What?”

“Shakespeare in the Park?” 

“Oh. It’s, uh…performances of Shakespeare’s plays. In public parks.”

“Right. What does that have to do with Thor?”

Steve stared at him. He was supposed to say something here, he knew he was. He got up and went into the kitchen.

Bucky didn’t get rid of the other apartment. Steve didn’t know about it in the first place. He thought he’d been living on the streets the whole time. Never mind that Bucky was clean and healthy when he’d called. 

He went there sometimes when the memories were too much. When Steve looked at him wistfully, obviously missing something. Bucky was missing the something.

He was a puppy dog. How did Bucky not remember that? He was all heart and big eyes and he inspired love wherever he was. But he was damn stupid too.

Steve left for weeks at a time, when his country needed him. It was always on the tip of his tongue – to invite Bucky – but he’d stop himself. Everyone treated him like a time bomb.

~*~

While Steve was in Berlin one time, Fury came to visit.

It was like something out of a movie. A dumb 70s spy flick. Nick Fury was sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons. How he knew about Jojo playing at the street corner across from the park was anyone’s guess.

“Barnes.”

Silence.

“Glad to see you in full health.”

Shrug.

“You almost did a number on me, you know. Wasn’t straight through like Widow.”

“She wasn’t my mission.”

“What’s your mission now?"

“Didn’t you hear? No more missions. No more – “ the name stuck in his throat. “No more nothing.”

“Is that so. Color me unimpressed.”

“I’ll tell Steve you said that. Where’s he gone off to now, for you? Berlin, right. I’m guessing you want me to tag along.”

The wheel shifted.

“Not at all, brother. Just wanted to see how you are.”

“Touched.”

Fury stood up. He was wearing glasses that would have been new right after Bucky killed Kennedy. The smoky lenses didn’t completely hide the ruined eye.

“You have to come in, I won’t hesitate.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

Fury stared him down. Bucky retreated into the soldier, his face blank and stance solid.

“You have a nice day now,” Fury said drily and stalked away.

~*~

Steve was passed out on the couch when he got home. He had quite a shiner going on and his clothes were dirty. Bucky gasped as a memory struck him. The apartment in his mind was much shabbier, and Steve much skinnier, but the pose and condition of his best friend was the same.

He kicked Steve’s legs off the couch and the man came to before he could fall off completely.

“What the f – Bucky! What the heck?”

He did find it funny that Steve still couldn’t swear.

“What did you get yourself into this time? Look pretty beat up there, bud.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, you should see the other guy.

Bucky stalked over to the fridge – it was too god-damned big – and got a package of frozen peas out. He chucked it at Steve’s head. Perfect catch, of course.  
Bucky leaned against the counter and tried to calm his racing pulse. Steve held the peas against his eye.

“You don’t have to do this anymore, you know,” Steve said quietly.

“If I don’t, who would?”

~*~

Steve was at work – SHIELD had reformed, beyond all sense – and Bucky knew. Well, he knew the roulette wheel wasn’t real. But that didn’t keep it from idly spinning. He didn’t have anything to do.

A knock. He sidled to the wall and flattened against it. He could sense breathing from the other side. The person started to walk away and stopped. Bucky felt for the gun that wasn’t strapped to his thigh. Another knock.

Bucky opened the door, pulled the person inside and blocked them against the wall. Forearm over their throat.

Sharon’s wide eyes stared back. “It’s Thursday, I didn’t think – "

“What.”

“I clean up in here on Thursdays. I thought Steve would have…”

Bucky didn’t let her go.

“I thought he would have cleared you out. We don’t talk about it, but he knows I do it.”

“He knows you break into his apartment to clean without him asking you to.”

“I just knocked, okay? And you’re the one who pulled me in here.”

“You'd break in otherwise.”

Sharon kneed him in the stomach, twisted out of his hold and pressed him against the wall instead.

“I have a key, dumbass. I’m Steve’s insurance.”

“Doesn’t need it.”

“Then why do I have you pinned against the wall right now?”

Bucky relaxed and looked down. Sharon eased her grip. “You’re going to help,” she said.

“I’m – what? Going to help you clean?”

“Yup. Get a bandanna to tie around your head or whatever you geriatrics do to get in the cleaning mood. I’m going to get the supplies.”

~*~

Sharon was a surprisingly calming presence, once you got past the lethal training. She didn’t talk much and focused whole-heartedly on the cleaning. She seemed put off whenever he had to ask questions.

And he had questions. When had science gone crazy enough to make so many varieties of soap? He insisted that all he needed was water, baking soda, and vinegar and he’d be good, but she scoffed. She went through the whole spiel of what everything did but it ran through his head like water.

He did get a bandanna on, just to spite her.

~*~

"Put a drop of Dawn in the water and set it for three minutes. That’ll loosen up all the dirt and make it easier to clean.

“How did Steve manage to get it so dirty?”

“Steve actually knows how to use a microwave,” she said archly. “At least he knows enough to cover the food he reheats.”

Sharon and/or Sam did most of their cooking and they lived off leftovers much of the time. Bucky stomped back to the bathroom and attacked the toilet.

~*~

Steve came home and Bucky was still wearing the bandanna. He also had his sleeves rolled up and various stains dotted his worn jeans and ragged Oxford. Pilfered from Steve’s closet, of course.

Steve’s eyes were slightly dazzled.

~*~

Movie night, except everyone else had gone home. They sat on opposite ends of the couch.

“But I don’t get it,” Bucky said. “How is it still there when everything else is destroyed? The statue’s not that big, there should be other buildings too. Not a beach.”

“Maybe they saved her as an example.”

“You just like this movie because you always had a thing for Lady Liberty.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who drew a naughty sketch of the wind blowing up her toga.”

“And you’re the one who cleaned up and fixed it,” Bucky said with a smirk.

Steve stopped laughing. His eyes fixed on Bucky, who squirmed.

“How much do you remember?”

He looked askance. “It’s not about what I can remember. It’s about what comes to the forefront.”

“Hmm?”

“I remember everything,” he said hoarsely.

Steve stopped. Everything about him stopped. He was just a statue.

Bucky went to get up but Steve broke and his hand went out to grab Bucky’s arm. “Wait.”

“Steve.”

“No, I’m done. I’m done not saying anything and pussy-footing around it and you and not wanting to know. Done.”

“Well if that’s it – "

“Don’t be a jerk, goddammit.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Punk,” he said weakly.

Steve pulled him all the way down – on top of him – and his mouth was hungry. Bucky met the unskilled kiss and groaned.

“I can’t do this anymore, Buck.”

“Really, cuz I was liking this turn of events.”

“You know what I mean.”

Bucky pulled away and Steve sighed.

“I have an apartment.”

Steve shot to his feet and started pacing. He ran a hand through his hair and it stood up all adorably. 

Stupid puppy.

“I know. Geez, don’t you think I know that? I just figured you needed it, is all. I mean.” He turned towards Bucky again. “You on the other end of that couch. Laughing at my jokes. Making friends with Sam. But staying here when I go to work. Accosting Sharon when she comes here to help out – "

“Oh, she told you about that?”

“Of course she did, I make her tell me everything.”

“And you gave her a key to your place, too? I guess that was important. For some reason.”

Steve stopped. His eyes widened and his lips went tight. Bucky only knew what was coming because of how bright his eyes were.

Steve broke out laughing. Large, raucous belly laughs, too. Bucky stared at him, non-plussed. He waited.

And had to wait a little more.

“That’s what you’re upset about?”

“Well, one thing.”

Steve was still chuckling. He dried his eyes. “And Sam?”

“Your song should not be by Marvin Gaye, I swear to God.”

“And…Nat? I’m guessing?”

Bucky smiled indulgently. “Tough luck, she’s mine.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I knew who was mine seventy years ago. Never changed.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Too bad she’s got alzheimer’s now.”

“Stop it.”

“Oh, you mean Goldberg. Right, sorry.”

“Bucky.”

“Steve.”

“Now I’m trying to be serious.”

“How’s that working out for ya?”

Steve grabbed him around the waist and pulled him in, but Bucky completed the kiss. It was just as rough as the one before – they were out of practice – but the heat of it seared down to the bone. The last of winter was drying up.

Steve had always been good with his tongue. Bucky’s knees buckled.

“Well. Technique could use some improvement, but good job on the follow through.”

“I swear to God I’m going to murder you,” Steve growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumbr](http://meta-buck.tumblr.com)!


	3. Waltz On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not quite "let's face the music and dance," but Steve is determined to exorcise some of Bucky's demons. The trouble is, he's the dad that throws his kid in the deep end so they can learn to swim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The domestic-vengers? I'm sorry, I'm a softy at heart.

Nat was surprised but pleased. She took him shopping.

“I wondered why he never took me up on any of my ideas. Makes sense now. But there was Sam…”

“Sam knew what was good for him. And it wasn’t Steve,” he said at her wide grin.

She shrugged and held a red shirt up against him. 

“No red,” he said.

“But it really brings out your eyes, sweetie.”

He held up a bright turquoise tank top. “I’d sooner wear this.”

“Done,” she said, and grabbed it. He sighed.

"I thought we were shopping for a suit. For the, uh,"

"State dinner you're going to as Steve's date? Yes, but we also need to update your wardrobe," she said with a sniff.

"You're lucky I know you could kill me."

"Tied to a chair and handcuffed."

"Me or you?" he asked. Winked.

She smirked and kissed him on the cheek. "You wish."

He followed after her. He still felt jumpy in public places with lots of people. His job at the restaurant had petered out after a while. He'd felt sheepish for it, truth be told. But he didn't know what to do instead.

"You know, I thought you'd take me to your personal tailor or something, some old Italian dude who can barely walk."

"You couldn't handle Gianni. This is much more your speed," she said, and pointed to a white prom tux.

"Oh yeah. I need it."

She turned around and considered him. A very small line appeared between her brows. "I don't really know what you should wear yet."

"Wow, indecision from the Widow, very unusual."

She looked back at him stonily. He stepped back and pulled out a jacket at random. "How's this?"

It was charcoal grey with pinkish pinstripes. "Not bad, but too casual for a state dinner."

"I don't think this store sells top hats and tails."

"We're working our way up. Let's focus on more regular clothes for the moment."

As they moved through the menswear department, he noticed them getting many odd glances. He moved closer until he was practically on top of Nat.

"At ease, comrade," she muttered.

"What's going on."

"Oh I don't know, I released all of SHIELD's secrets last year, faced a Senate sub-committee, went through some serious image rehabilitation - and now I'm shopping at Pennies like nothing's weird about that. And your metal arm."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

~*~

They bought the bare essentials there. Jeans, T-shirts, tennis shoes and, on Bucky's insistence, a multi-function radio. It did ten different things, half of which he didn't see the use for, but he needed it. He needed unnecessary things.

They stopped back at Steve's apartment for lunch. She knew not to push him too far.

"I think your coloring would look really well with monochrome," she said.

"Like...?"

"All black."

"Haha."

"I'm serious."

"I'v been wearing all black for years now, Natasha."

"Yeah, I know. So it's time to reclaim it. And think about how Steve will look at you in a banging black tux, all dangerous-like."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't think Steve has a - "

"Yes he does."

"What?"

"Don't you notice how Steve looks at you when you're wearing certain things?" she asked.

He squirmed in his seat and took a big gulp of water. "He's always looked at me like that no matter what I'm in."

"No, think about it. I feel like an idiot for not figuring it out beforehand. Like...your waiter outfit. Remember that?"

He shrugged. "Black outfit with a white apron. What's special about that."

"And the towel over your wrist. I could practically see him imagining ways you could use that towel."

"Nat."

"And your bandana? I think he's bought you five more of them. In various colors."

"See, that was a joke, bandanas have this thing where - "

"And the jacket."

He stopped. And thought.

A couple weeks ago, Steve had bought a leather jacket for him. It wasn't that special. Bucky thought he got it for him since it looked like an old bomber jacket and he was feeling nostalgic. But he thought about what had happened later that night...

"You might be right."

"There's no might about it. Do it for Steve." She paused. "Do it for _America_."

~*~

In the end, they did end up going to Gianni, who made him a slim black suit. The jacket had a slight shine to it, the shirt was black too, but the tie was a dark, iridescent silver. He gleamed right down to the snappy black shoes.

"Man, even I might go for that," Sam said when he saw him.

"You couldn't handle it," Bucky snapped back.

Sam shrugged. "Don't knock it 'til you try it. You know what they say..."

"Yes. We know," Nat said.

"Once you go - "

"Stop." Bucky said.

"Guys, just please let me in," Steve's muffled voice came from behind the door.

"We're meeting you at the dinner, I told you," Nat called.

"But what if something happens?"

"Nothing will happen," she said.

Steve whined some more but Natasha just grinned at Bucky. With a shiver, he saw a glimpse of the silky, deadly woman she could be.

~*~

They slid up to the curb, the navy Bentley purring to a halt. The chauffeur came around to open the door for them.

"This is ridiculous," Bucky said.

"Shut up," Nat told him.

"Where's Sharon?" Sam asked. "She's my date and I forgot to ask how she was getting here."

"Nice," Bucky said. He still hadn't forgiven her for enlisting him in house-cleaning.

"She's running security, I thought you knew," Natasha said.

Sam shrugged.

"Bucky?"

He turned and smiled widely and the world seemed to shift.

Nat had insisted that he should dress to the nines but Steve...well, he was a perfect ten.

Ever the nostalgic, he had gone for an old-fashioned suit. The vest accentuated his v-shaped torso and the jacket was just tight enough to define his physic. Bucky might need to confiscate Steve's pocket-square to mop up his drool.

Steve was kind of starry-eyed too. Maybe Nat was right, that they needed this.

"Did you help him too?" Bucky whispered to her.

She smirked. "Might have. Might not. You'll never know."

He was sure of that.

"Hey, Buck," Steve murmurred.

And Bucky didn't care, he pulled Steve in to kiss him. The crowd didn't react right away. They were still outside and people were just starting to filter in. But a gasp did go up as the kiss lingered. Steve smiled against his lips.

"This'll be front-paged news tomorrow."

Natasha lowered her phone. "It's already on Twitter."

"Thanks," Bucky said.

~*~

Bucky did remember the few times he'd had to stick around for one of the Captain America love-fests during the war. He'd hated those but this was on a whole other level. The president's speech had been short and sweet but the Speaker was droning on. He had to subtly attack whatever the prez had said, asserting his party's dominance. Or whatever.

This dinner was in honor of what had happened with SHIELD last year. No matter if they were evil, it was still American lives lost in the helicarriers. Some were innocent. Steve's jaw was tight and Bucky knew he was feeling a mixture of guilt, defiance, and anger. The small talk buzzing around them glanced off his demeanor.

Bucky laid a hand on his leg, just letting it rest there. Steve tensed.

"Buck."

"You need to relax."

"I need to get through this."

A widow of one of the men who had tried to give Steve air cover - a man Bucky had killed, he realized - was speaking now. She glanced towards him once. Bucky realized that this was another thing that had Steve on edge.

There wasn't much talk about it yet, but people were starting to notice that Steve's best friend was back. His best friend who had been responsible for countless deaths and played a major roll in last year's attack. A man who had almost succeeded in killing Captain America.

They were angry, and they had every right to be. Suddenly, Bucky felt two inches small.

"I need to go to the bathroom," he said, and fled the room.

He lurched into the nearest one - which was still too far down the hallway - and stopped at the sink. The marble interior echoed every move he made. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face.

He was reeling. His mind was going back to every shot, every person he had been ordered to kill. He thought of the children they had said would turn out to be dangerous. And the widow they said who knew too much. He thought of the school they said was a hotbed of sedition.

He practically fell into a stall and retched. Nothing but bile came out because he hadn't felt like eating all day.

He clenched his eyes shut and tears rolled out. He gasped, feeling all the memories and assassinations radiating throughout his body. He was hot, cold, and stabbed deeply by the things he'd done.

The door banged open. "Bucky?"

"Go away," he managed to choke out.

"No," Steve said, and pulled him bodily out of the stall.

Bucky shoved him away and Steve bounced off one of the partitions. Steve reached out to him again and Bucky swung out a fist that failed to connect with anything. His body followed through with the movement and Steve barely caught him.

"Bucky, please."

"I said go away."

"No. Never."

"Please..."

"I'm with you to the end of the line."

Bucky relaxed and burrowed into Steve. "You just had to say that, didn't you?"

Steve huffed a laugh. "It's true."

"Likewise."

And Bucky cried, clinging to his friend. Boyfriend? Gah. Partner...didn't seem right either. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you come to this," Steve said.

"It was my choice."

"But I should have realized what it'd be like."

"Steve, not everything is your fault. And I needed to face this eventually."

"There are better ways."

"Okay, then tell me. What could I have done?"

"Well, you could have - "

"Gone on a talk show?" Bucky asked harshly. "Maybe Entertainment Tonight, they'd love me. Or even better - Fox News. That would have been fun."

"Bucky - "

"No, Steve. You can't handle me with kid gloves."

"You've been through enough, I don't what you to hurt anymore."

"That's not how this works. I'll always be in pain."

Steve's face spasmed. He looked away.

Bucky sighed. He broke away and paced to the other end of the bathroom. "You can't control everything. I'm back. And...I'm better, I guess. And being with you..."

"Yeah."

"It's great."

"It is."

"And it's great that we don't have to hide anymore."

Steve shrugged. "I'll be dragged through the mud for coming out. Captain America - gay."

"What would Peggy have to say about that?"

Steve laughed. "She'd defend me to everyone and then tear me a new one in private."

Bucky nodded. "So what's the big deal?"

Steve shook his head. "How'd you turn this back on me?"

"It's a gift."

Steve slowly walked over to him. "Do you think you can go back out there yet?"

Bucky thought. Then, after a moment, a devilish smile spread over his face.

"There's something I have to do first," he said, and pushed Steve back into a stall.

"Bucky! We can't - "

"It's fine, everyone's busy in there."

"But - "

"I need to let off some steam. And you look too good in this suit."

"Which I can't mess up."

Bucky stroked down Steve's pants and the larger man hissed. Despite what he was saying, he was ready.

"I'll be careful," Bucky whispered, as he fell to his knees.

~*~

It was over relatively quickly and they cleaned up carefully. Bucky didn't need to be touched at all, which was embarrassing. They looked perfect when they rejoined the dinner, but Steve's flushed face and Bucky's smirk had Natasha glaring daggers at them.

"I thought you were freaking out and Steve went to talk you down," she hissed at him.

"Well I did, and he did. He did a really good job at it."

"I can see that. And you just had to show how grateful you were?"

"Naturally."

"Now, we'd like to hear from our guest of honor, Captain America himself. Steve Rogers, can you join me?" the President asked.

Steve's blush deepened as he got up. He glanced back at Bucky and Natasha. He slapped Sam on the shoulder quickly and strode up to the podium.

"Uh, good evening everyone. Thanks for the honor of being your guest tonight, but I don't deserve it."

The crowd murmured.

"I didn't do this alone. You all know about Natasha, Sam, and Maria's roll in this. But they're not the only ones I need to thank. All of the SHIELD agents who came through, all of the civilians who've supported me through everything, my fellow Avengers...but there's one person who has never gotten enough credit."

Bucky felt a million eyes swing to him even before Steve said it.

"You know about my friend, Bucky Barnes. He's been by my side since childhood, we served together in the war, and I thought - " his voice broke. "I thought he died."

Natasha squeezed Bucky's hands and he saw a glimmer in her eye. It couldn't be a tear.

"When I was defrosted," he said with a slight laugh, "it was hard. Adjusting to the differences was one thing, but the person I'd always relied on, who'd always supported me and looked out for me - he wasn't there." Steve stopped again and it was clear he was choked up. He met Bucky's eyes and everything froze for a second. His own eyes started to sting.

"Then he was back. But he wasn't."

The crowd was buzzing loudly now. He caught a few snippets of conversation around him but ignored it. Sam shifted and stared him down. The determined, sympathetic look in his eyes said everything. Bucky should really start going to those support group sessions.

"I made sure to stop the helicarriers before HYDRA could implement Project Insight. But after that. After that, I had to save my friend at any cost." Steve stopped and looked over the crowd. He surveyed them with a bulldog expression in his eyes. "I should have died that day. I would have done so willingly. But Bucky saved me."

He wanted to run. He wanted to flee and hide in a cave forever. He saw a woman across the way and realized he'd killed her husband. She didn't know. A few other politicians who should have been here were dead too. And then there were the missing HYDRA agents. He shook his head slightly when Steve met his eyes again but the other man just smiled.

"He's been called the longest-serving POW and that's true. No one can understand the trauma he's been through and his recovery has simply been amazing."

"Yeah, his dick might have had something to do with that," Natasha muttered almost inaudibly. Bucky choked down a hysterical laugh.

"I would like to give up my status as guest of honor and give it to him," Steve finished. "He's worth ten of me." He stepped aside and motioned to Bucky to join him.

No. He couldn't. It was one thing to sit back here and observe it, another to go up there and really be on display. He was pressed back until he was a part of the chair.

"Come on man, you going to leave him hanging like that?" Sam said, his voice light and friendly.

"I can't."

"You can," Natasha said, and she wasn't trying to hide the tears anymore. Two tracks divided her cheeks; the pearlescent trails were beautiful against her skin.

Bucky rose shakily and walked, excruciatingly slowly, to the front of the room. The eyes that tracked him were varied in their emotions. Some were curious, others hostile, and a few...sympathetic. Smiling. He looked away and stared at the wall behind Steve as he made his way forward.

He was finally at the podium and he cleared his throat. He leaned towards the mic. "This idiot has been dragging me into these sorts of messes for almost eighty years, folks," he said.

Apparently, that was just the sort of thing to break the tension in the room. The audience laughed, then started applauding.

Steve pulled him into a bear hug and it was a long time before he let him go.

"Practice that one at home first?" Bucky asked.

~*~

They were most assuredly front page the next day. And for a few days after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris Evans' look inspired by [this](http://katiebakes641.tumblr.com/post/99795107944) post. You're welcome

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://meta-buck.tumblr.com)!


End file.
